You Can't Save Everyone
by IndigoC
Summary: After taking a case by himself, Dean gets hurt and hospitalized, waiting for Sam and Castiel to get there so Cas can heal him. But when they arrive, Sam realizes a banshee may be running amok and they should try and find it. Cas wanders the halls looking, but a building full of dying people may prove deadly for a wayward angel with healing powers, desperately seeking redemption...
1. Chapter 1

** CHAPTER 1**

"For the last time, dammit, I'm_ fine_."

Dean Winchester had had enough of medical attention for one day. He hated hospitals to begin with, and having a bunch of white coats swarm all over his mangled arm, touching it, prodding it, jostling it around, wasn't exactly improving that disinclination. Overall, the hunt had been successful, but had ended with Dean in the middle of the road sporting a chewed up forearm. Needless to say, several good Samaritans later, Dean found himself in an ambulance and now in a claustrophobic, badly lit room on a gurney. Every second he was in there was a second too long. He just hoped that Sam was almost there, with Castiel in tow. He had sent his brother a text as soon as the ambulance arrived, so it shouldn't have been much longer.

The doctor, a tall lanky guy with a large nose, turned Dean's arm over for the hundredth time. The hunter jerked his appendage away.

"Christ, enough already" he snarled.

"The wounds are deep, so you might need surgery to repair muscle damage" the doctor droned.

_Or an angel of the Lord with healing powers, if his ass ever gets here_ Dean thought, rolling his eyes. Cas couldn't 'teleport' anymore, but he could still heal, so hopefully he was riding shotgun with Sam at this very moment. One touch and boom, no more Dr. Nosejob.

"Your painkillers are on the way" the doc said on his way out of the door. "We'll get you hooked up to an IV and feeling better in no time."

"I said I'm good" Dean shouted after him. "I live for the pain!"

Actually, the pain sucked and Dean was anxious for some relief, but there was no point in having an IV and all that if the wound would soon be nonexistent. The plan was to have Cas heal his arm and then split before anyone knew what had happened.

A nurse entered the room and Dean was about to protest again until he noticed her pretty auburn hair and hazel eyes. He smiled coolly at her. "Well, it's about to time. My heroine, come to save me from the crippling pain."

Sam jumped in the spare car as soon as he got the text from Dean. He told his idiot brother not to take on the case alone, but Dean insisted he needed 'some me time' so he let him go, against his better judgement. Werewolves weren't anything they couldn't handle, but no matter how many times they had faced a certain enemy, something could always go wrong unexpectedly. Dean ending up in a hospital 45 miles away certainly fell under that category.

Castiel was with him, of course, sitting quietly in the passenger seat. Sam's relationship with the fallen angel wasn't nearly as awkward as it used to be, but it definitely wasn't at a 'Dean and Cas' level of comfort, nor would it ever be. At this point, Sam and Castiel were close friends, but Dean and Cas were best friends, without a doubt. Sam was slightly envious, only because he did not have that close of a connection with anyone outside of blood relations, but he was glad his brother had someone like that in his life. Dean needed it more than he did.

"Dean will be fine."

Sam looked over at Cas in confusion. "Huh?

Castiel did not return the glance. "I can feel how tense you are. I know you're worried about Dean, so I'm saying, he will be fine. To comfort you."

Sam nodded slowly. "Uh…right. Thanks Cas. I'm sure he will be too."

Thankfully, they arrived at the hospital at that moment. Sam took the lead, with Cas following close behind, as they made their way past the front desk, lying all the way up to the floor where Dean's room was. But as they went along, Sam kept noticing an unusual amount of police activity. They were questioning people, mostly staff, and talking quietly. He nudged Castiel's shoulder and veered off to the side near where one officer was having a discussion with a rather flustered nurse outside of a patient's room. He caught enough words to get the gist of it: "complained of headaches", "acting strange", "not considered suicidal". He also managed to catch a glimpse of the patient in the room before he was covered up. His head was completing bashed in. Based on what Sam had heard, he had done it to himself…or had he? And from what he could see, that man wasn't the only one. He also heard someone mention something about odd music….

Sam could only think of one thing they had encountered before that might be responsible: a banshee. He couldn't be sure of it without investigating further, but he needed to talk to Dean first. He looked over at the angel beside him.

"Say Cas, you're not picking up on any…weird presences, are you? Something non-human?"

Cas glanced back. "Actually, I was going to mention that something does seem a little off. There's blood in the air, but it's not being spilled by human hands."

"Great, so we might have a problem. C'mon, Dean's room is right up here."

Dean was lying on the bed with a heavily bandaged arm, watching some cartoon eating apple sauce when Sam walked in.

"You're late" Dean said without looking at him, his mouth full. "And you juf miffed Bethanie, my 'nurse'. She's somfin else, dude."

Sam grimaced. "Gross, man."

When Cas walked in, Dean finally flicked the TV off. "Well, it's about time. My hero." _Wait, didn't I just say that?_ Dean thought to himself.

Castiel started towards the side of the bed, but Sam stopped him. "Hold up a sec. Dean, I think we might have a case here."

Dean lifted one eyebrow. "A case? Seriously?"

"Yes. The moment we got here, I noticed a lot of cops swarming around. Apparently, they've just had a number of suicides among patients, namely people suddenly bashing their own heads in. People who were not even on suicide watch. And they were complaining about headaches and acting oddly."

"They also mentioned something about hearing strange music" Cas added.

"Exactly. Sounds familiar, right? And since we're already here, I thought we oughta look into it."

Dean looked between the other two. "Okaaaay, but why did you have to stop Cas from doing his mojo magic on me to say that?"

Sam sighed. "Because, if we're to stick around and check this out, then you-"

"-have to keep playing the patient role" Dean finished. "Yeah, okay. I get it now." He slumped back against the pillow with a groan. "Great. Now I gotta put up with this stupid arm until we find the freaking banshee."

"And whose fault is that?" Sam inquired, crossing his arms in disapproval. "I told you not to take on that other case alone, but as usual, you didn't listen to me. So you brought this on yourself."

"As usual?" Dean shot back. "Like _I'm_ the one who never listens."

Sam scoffed incredulously. "What's _that_ supposed to mean? I listen to you all the time! Name one time I didn't."

Dean held up the hand of his good arm. "I can name five, genius."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Cas had been standing off to the side for the entire conversation, but it was getting harder and harder to listen to. A third wheel may have added more stability, but it certainly didn't aide much in a bickering duel between two brothers.

"Um, I think I'll have a look around the hospital" Castiel announced awkwardly. "See if I can spot any sign of where the banshee might be hiding."

Sam and Dean cut off their arguing abruptly and stared at him. The younger Winchester cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, good idea Cas. Let us know what you find. I'll start asking around the other patients and staff soon."

"After you're done lecturing me, you mean?" Dean chimed in.

"Shut up."

Cas grimaced at the two. "Okay, I'll be back."

Dean snorted. "You forgot the accent, Cas."

"What accent?"

"Never mind…."

Castiel left his human companions to their squabbling and started wandering the halls. He wasn't especially good at looking inconspicuous, but he tried his best. He made sure to stay out of the way of staff and appear like he knew where he was going. Despite his efforts, several people kept asking if needed directions or help finding someone. He brushed them off as politely as possible and kept moving, keeping an eye out for anything unusual…from a human's perspective anyway.

At some point, Cas found himself on the floor where something called the "Hospice Unit" was. He noticed this area was quieter than most, and all the people he passed seemed especially sad and distressed. The wave of negative emotion emanating from the area was almost overwhelming. His curiosity behind what was causing this got the better of him, and he stopped by a room where an especially dense wave of sorrow was coming from. He heard quiet sobbing and peered around the door frame, trying to keep out of sight.

Inside the room was a small bed with a child laying on it, covered in sheets and hooked up to several machines. It looked like she was asleep, but not exactly peaceful. There were two adults in the room as well; one was leaned over the bed, her face buried in her hands and her frame trembling, and the other, a man, stood behind her with his arms around her shoulders. Cas ducked back a bit when a third person stepped into view, another doctor, quietly speaking. He was explaining something about an illness, how there wasn't much more they could do, and that he was very sorry.

Castiel stepped back and leaned casually against the wall as the doctor left the room, then peered back through the doorway. So…the child was dying. And the parents were devastated, unable to do anything to stop it. Cas stared at the ground, feeling rather depressed himself all of a sudden. Human lives were so fragile, and although death was a given for each and every one of them at some point, it seemed wrong that child should die so young, at no fault of their own.

He perked up again when the father started talking softly, suggesting that they go out for some air. The mother protested at first, but eventually agreed. Cas made sure he was completely out of sight when the two exited and made their way slowly down the hall. He should have followed suit, continued his search for the banshee, but….

Checking that the coast was (mostly) clear, Castiel very slowly entered the room. He moved as quietly as possible, not sure if the child was able to wake up, but not wanting to take the chance. The room was very colorful compared to the rest of the hospital, vibrant balloons, cards and stuffed animals decorating every inch. But the colors did nothing to cut through the thick cloud of sadness that hung in the air. To Cas, it was like a crushing weight on his soul, heavy and unrelenting. He stepped around to the side of the bed, staring down at the child's small, pale face. So fragile.

It wasn't right. This child did not deserve to die like this. Castiel could do something about it…so shouldn't he?

He made up his mind and leaned down, laying his fingertips lightly against the child's forehead. His grace flared inside him, working hard to undo such a rampant illness and put everything back as it should be. In an instant, the color returned to her face and she began to stir. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, a soft shade of brown, and looked up at him. He withdrew his hand and smiled softly at her.

"You're gonna be fine now."

He sensed that the parents were on their way back, so he took his leave, but stood nearby until they returned. He watched everything unfold from a distance: the parents' reaction when they realized their child was awake, the doctors rushing in, dumfounded, and the overwhelming sense of relief that suddenly washed over the sorrow and evaporated it. The relief was incredible, and Cas felt it right away. He felt…good. Like he had actually done something right. They couldn't thank him, because they didn't know. But he didn't need that anyway. It was enough to see their faces, tracked with tears of joy, and see them embrace their child lovingly. He smiled again. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Finally, Castiel tore himself away from the touching scene and made his way down the hall again…but it wasn't long before he felt that overpowering sorrow yet again. He stopped dead and peered into another room. Another broken, devastated family stood around another dying soul, a fairly young man somewhere in his mid-thirties, still too young to die. This time, Castiel saw a child sitting on the bed with the man, calling him 'Daddy'.

A young man. A father. Another soul who did not deserve this wretched fate. Cas grimaced. How could he walk away from this?

So he waited, until the family dispersed a little and some doctors came to wheel the man's gurney out of the room, apparently taking him for some tests. As they passed, Castiel discreetly reached out and touched the man. His grace flared once again and he staggered a little at the intensity. It certainly wasn't what it used to be, and he hadn't used it quite this much in a long time, but it worked. The man suddenly started coughing, scratching at the tube going down his throat. The doctor's frantically but carefully removed it, and were baffled to find that the man was suddenly 100% different. Completely healthy. They wheeled him back into the room and the family crowded around, exclaiming in happiness and hugging each other. Castiel leaned against a wall, slightly dizzy, but the relief had returned. Once again, he had done something good, an act that had made a difference for the better.

At that moment, something did occur to Cas. Two rooms side by side, and the fate of the patient had been the same for both: imminent death. That's when he realized…he was in an area of the hospital for those were on the verge of death. He could feel it now. These clouds of sadness and grief were everywhere. Castiel looked at his surroundings, counted the doorways, the rooms, sensed the sorrow radiating from almost every one of them. He clinched his fists. It was wrong. None of these people deserved to die…and he had the power to put a stop to it.

**To be continued….**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Sam did leave the room a little while after Cas and started discretely asking around staff members and patients walking the halls, trying to see if the pieces added up. So far, he kept hearing the same kind of things, about people suddenly going crazy and screaming of pain in their heads. The most telling evidence was the music; several of the people he talked to recalled hearing a strange song of an unknown origin, and that some of the patients who had gone insane mentioned something similar. So far, all the signs pointed to a banshee, as he had assumed. But to confirm, he would have to see the bodies of the suicide victims.

He headed back to Dean's room to fill him in on what he had learned so far. His brother glared the whole time Sam recounted what he had heard.

"Everything adds up, but I still gotta see the bodies, so I'm gonna try and get into the morgue."

"Yeah, okay. Great."

Sam frowned. "What's wrong?"

"This" Dean said, gesturing around him, "is stupid. What the hell good am I doing sitting here on my ass, trying to ignore how much my fucking arm hurts? There's gotta be something else I can do. Why not let Cas heal me and I just pretend I'm still hurt until this is over?"

"Because if they found out you were miraculously all better, that would just cause more problems. Sorry, but you had your own case. You're just gonna have to…'sit' this one out for now."

Dean scoffed. "Bullshit. And speaking of Cas, where the hell is he? He's been gone kind of a long time, doncha think?"

"Yeah, kind of. But maybe he's just being thorough."

Dean didn't seem convinced. "Well, if he's found anything, we need to know. I'm not tied down. I'm not a prisoner. So I'll just go for a stroll. Me and this stupid IV stand. You try to get in the morgue, and I'll see if I can find Cas and spot anything else. I have my phone, so just keep me updated."

"Whatever" Sam sighed. "Arguing with you just wastes time, so sure." He also chose not to point out that every time Cas was out of sight nowadays, Dean was worried. His brother would deny it, but it was blatantly obvious. Instead, he walked over and helped Dean out of the bed and fixed the stand so that he could wheel it around. "I'll let you know when I get into the morgue. And you let me know what you find out, too. Just try not to let that doctor of yours see you out and about."

"Dr. Schnoz can kiss my ass."

Dean made his way carefully down the hallways, trying to look sturdy enough to be left alone but feeble enough to fit in as someone who belonged there. It was a fine line. He half thought about just going ahead and asking for Cas's help once he found him, but he knew Sam was right. Though it didn't make the situation any less frustrating.

He figured sooner or later he would run into Cas, but he was still a little concerned. The angel had improved immensely when it came to interacting with human strangers in an inconspicuous manner, but he wasn't completely there yet. A couple of odd questions and insane-sounding phrases, and next thing they knew, they'd be having to sneak Cas out of the psych ward. So Dean kept his eyes peeled, for trench coats and floating entities respectfully.

As he made his way, he saw signs for the hospice unit coming up and heading towards it. Seemed like a perfect place for a specter of death to hang out. But as he got closer, he noticed a lot of unusually lively commotion, especially for a place that patients often didn't leave alive. People were running around, talking loudly, smiling or looking completely shocked. It was definitely a red flag, but Dean was confused; this certainly wasn't the kind of response a brain-sucking monster would elicit. He continued into the middle of it to try and see what the hell was going on.

Clearly, something major had just occurred, and whatever it was had people hugging each other, exclaiming in disbelief and looking totally bewildered. Despite the overall joyful atmosphere, Dean had a bad feeling. And as he picked up on random conversations here and there, the sense grew. Apparently, patients who had previously been knocking on death's door were miraculously cured out of nowhere, all traces of their illnesses and whatnot mysteriously gone. But to Dean, one conversation that stood out among the mob was between a little girl, just saved from the brink of death, and her astounded doctor. Her words sent dread through the hunter's entire body.

"An angel healed me" she said, her young voice filled with wonderment. "I woke up and he was there, and he said I would be fine now."

Dean gritted his teeth. Holy mother of Chuck.

Immediately, he left the busy area and pulled out his phone, dialing Sam. His brother picked up after the first ring. "Dean, I'm in the morgue" he said quietly. "Looks like a banshee alright. Their heads are really chewed up. Did you find Cas?"

Dean took a deep breath before answering. "No….Sam, we have a serious problem."

Sam was quiet on the other side for a few moments. "What's going on? Is Cas okay?"

"Just meet me back at my room ASAP" Dean replied before hanging up.

Once they met back up, Dean told Sam what he had heard in the hospice unit. The younger Winchester's eyes grew wider with each word.

"Oh God, so you think Cas…is wandering around the hospital healing everyone in sight?"

"That's seems to be the case" Dean growled. "I'm gonna fucking murder him."

Sam held up his hands. "Okay, look. I know this is bad-"

"_Really_ bad."

"-yes, but try to chill a little bit. I'm sure there's an explanation. He probably just got a little carried away or something."

"Carried away?" Dean looked at Sam incredulously. "Sam, he probably just caused one of the biggest miracles in history on the third floor of some random hospital! What kind of publicity do you think this is gonna get? Of all the reckless, stupid-"

"Dean, calm down. Remember, there is still a banshee on the loose in here somewhere. Let's just focus on finding Cas and taking care of that, and then we can talk to him about this mess. Okay?"

Dean was fuming and took a little while to answer. But finally,

"Sure. Fine."

He tried to take Sam's advice and cool off, but he was losing the battle. He needed to find that angelic idiot as soon as possible.

"I'll look for Cas again and you go to Impala and get the gold dagger."

Sam looked a little uncomfortable. "Okay, but Dean-"

"I know, I know. We'll discuss it with him afterwards. Banshee now, ass-whooping later. I got it."

Sam nodded. "Okay, meet you back here soon."

But as Dean resumed his search through the hospital, he was so mad he could barely think about the stupid banshee. Cas had dropped the ball many times, but this was so avoidable and unnecessary; he had just put all of them at serious risk. Whatever his excuse was, it had been a terrible decision, and an irresponsible mistake.

It took a while, but Dean followed the trail of miraculous recoveries until he final tracked down his friend. Dean happened to be passing by a room in the ICU, which was fairly quiet at the moment, when he spotted the angel, leaning over a bed with an unconscious man, wrapped heavily in bandages. Luckily, there was no one else there with him. Trying to keep his composure, Dean pushed his IV stand into the narrow room.

"Cas, just what in the hell do you think you are doing? Have you lost your goddamned mind?"

Castiel straightened up, kind of, but didn't face him. "I…don't know what you mean."

Dean fought the urge to whirl him around, grab him by the front of his coat, and shake him senseless. "Oh, c'mon! You can be dense, but this is ridiculous. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Yes" Cas answered quietly, his voice oddly shaky. "I've saved people."

"You caused a phenomena! Did you really think healing an entire hospital floor wasn't going to raise any eyebrows? Look at me when I'm talking to you, dammit!"

Finally, Cas did turn around, slowly and ungracefully. When Dean got a good look at the angel's face, his blood ran cold.

"Oh, Jesus. Cas…."

Castiel's skin wasn't just pale; it was practically white, like a person who had lost almost all of their blood. There were deep shadows under his eyes and around his cheekbones, and his eyes themselves were glassy and bloodshot. He also seemed to be having trouble keeping them open and was swaying on his feet. He looked like a corpse.

Dean's previous anger immediately morphed into panic. "Oh God…Cas, what have you done to yourself?"

Cas staggered, triggering Dean's instinct to reach out and grab his arm to try and steady him. Despite how heavily bandaged his other arm was, he lifted it to Cas's face, gently patting his cheek.

"Hey, hey…focus, buddy. What did you do?"

The angel looked up at him blearily, his eyes incredibly unfocused.

"I…I saved them. I…did something right…this time…."

He finished with a deep wet cough, and suddenly there was blood leaking from him mouth and nose. Cas seemed to lose the strength to stay upright and started to collapse. Dean grabbed him under the arms, lowering them both to the floor.

"Cas!? CAS!"

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

For the first time since it happened, Dean completely forgot about the throbbing pain in his mangled forearm. His focus was entirely on the ailing seraph now lying limp in his arms, blood leaking from his face. He couldn't even feel angry anymore. He was just scared…so much that his hands were shaking. He shook Cas gently and called his name a couple of times, but received no response.

Dean took a deep breath. He had to keep his head clear and come up with a plan. He couldn't accurately assess how bad Cas's condition was until he was somewhere more discrete. He looked around wildly, trying to see if anyone had noticed them, but again, the ICU was fairly quiet. The last thing he needed was Cas being carted off by a bunch of doctors that had no idea what they were dealing with. Despite their luck in not being seen, it wouldn't last long; Dean needed to move them both somewhere else and fast.

First thing he did was, as carefully as possible, remove the IV from his arm so he didn't have to worry about hauling the stupid stand around anymore. Now, he could focus on moving Cas. Had his arm been in better working condition, he would've just picked Cas up bridal style and carried him out of there. Instead, he was forced to make due with grabbing Cas under the arms and dragging him, which was also pretty painful. He just hoped that whoever was manning the security cameras was out to lunch or taking a nap. Thankfully, he spotted the chapel right across the hall and made his way there as quickly as possible. For an ICU unit in such a large hospital, there certainly weren't many staff members around…not that Dean was complaining.

Somehow, he managed to get them both inside the small chapel and, like the rest of the area, it was vacant. Just to be safe, Dean turned back and flipped the lock on the door. The small door windows were covered in thick stained glass, so no one would be able to peer through and see them either.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your house, Chuck" Dean whispered sarcastically.

Finally, he turned his attention back to Castiel, who he laid out on the floor. Dean knelt down beside him and began to assess the damage. His skin was so pale it was almost transparent, blue veins clearly visible. Carefully, Dean laid pressed his hand against the side of Cas's neck to feel his pulse; it was there, but not very strong. Another thing he noticed was that the angel's skin was incredibly cold and that his breathing was incredibly shallow. Dean had to lay his hand across Cas's chest just to convince himself that he was actually was still breathing. Overall, he just looked…awful.

He had seen Cas overdo it a couple of times, seen him overuse his grace until it made him weak. But this…this was a new extreme. Dean had never seen it this bad before, and frankly, he didn't know what it really meant. Was this something Cas could recover from, or….

Dean shook his head. _No, can't think like that. Gotta focus, and call Sam._

Sam was almost back to Dean's room when said brother's name suddenly popped up on his phone screen. In light of their last 'conversation', Sam instantly had a bad feeling when he answered.

"Dean, I'm almost to your room. What's up?"

Sam had to hold the phone away from his ear at his brother's loud, frantic response on the other side of the line, a jumble of intelligible words.

"Dean, ho- hold up. Calm down, _slow _down. I can't understand you."

He heard a deep inhale. "It's Cas, I found him."

Sam waited for a moment. "…and?"

"And he's in really rough shape. I mean, _really _rough, Sam. He looks dead, and he's bleeding from the mouth, and I can't get any kind of response, so I have fucking idea what to do, and I can't-"

"Dean, stop" Sam cut in sharply. "Where are you?"

"I'm…we're in the chapel near the ICU. I found him in one of the rooms, healing some random guy. I locked the door, but obviously this is a _very_ temporary solution."

"For sure. Listen, stay where you are. I'll come to you, and we can figure something out. It'll be okay."

"Hard to believe that right about now…just hurry."

"I will, I promise."

Sam was just about to hang up when Dean's voice suddenly got very loud and frantic again.

"Sam, wait!"

Dean was just about to hang up on Sam when Cas suddenly sat up straight with a loud gasp, scaring the living hell out of his friend. Dean fell back a bit, his eyes wide.

"Sam, wait!" he yelped at his brother through the phone. "Cas, he…he's awake! Don't hang up yet."

Dean set the phone down and crawled closer to Castiel, who was breathing rather sporadically and staring forward with unfocused, bloodshot eyes. Slowly, Dean reached out and grasped the angel's shoulder.

"Cas, hey…are you alright?" Dean knew it was a stupid question, but he was desperate for a response of any kind.

Castiel turned his head slowly to look at the hunter. "Dean….I'm…fine."

Dean wanted to smack him. "Cas, please. Cut the bullshit. You are _so not _fine. What is going on?"

With shaky movements, Cas reached up to wipe the back of his hand across his face, then stared at the smeared blood in confusion. Dean forced himself to remain patient, squeezing the angel's shoulder a little tighter.

"I'll ask again…what the hell is going on with you?"

Cas coughed, and responded with a voice much scratchier than usual. "I…I believe…I must have overdone it. With the healing, I mean."

Dean scoffed. "Ya _think_? Christ Cas, you practically cured half a hospital. But we'll talk about that later, and you bet your ass we're gonna talk. Right now, we gotta get out of this mess, and there's still the goddamned banshee to worry about. So, how do we fix…this? What should I do?"

Dean practically held his breath waiting for an answer. Cas blinked a few times, coughed again, then replied "I should…be fine soon. My grace just needs time to restore itself."

The hunter wanted to feel relieved, but some part of him was still unconvinced that this would just go away with a little bit of time. Just then, Dean heard his name faintly from the floor and turned around. He had almost forgotten Sam was still on the phone. He snatched it up and held it up to his ear.

"Goddammit Dean, what's going on!?"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm here. Cas is awake and talking now. Still really out of it, though, but he claims he will recover."

Sam sighed in relief. "Thank God for that. Hang tight, I'll get there as soon as I can."

Dean was about to agree, but something occurred to him. "Actually Sam, why don't you wait in my room and we'll come to you."

"What? How?"

Dean lowered the phone and turned to Cas. "Hey, think you can walk?" The angel nodded absently. "Yeah, Sam. We'll come to you. We've been gone a while, don't want the doc sending a search party. If he comes back, you can cover for me."

"Um, okay. Sure, I guess. Just be careful. The banshee is out there, but I have no idea where yet."

"Noted. See ya soon, Sammy."

Dean stuffed the phone in his pocket and looked back at Cas. The angel was staring around the room curiously, but despite his assurances, his complexion had not yet improved and his breathing still seemed off. It was hard to look at Cas with his face bloody and his skin white and believe that he was in any way, 'fine'.

"Hey, you okay to move? We need to meet back up with Sam."

"Yes, I'm ready."

Dean nodded and moved to push himself off the ground. His first attempted failed though when he tried to use his injured arm and a particular movement caused a jolt of pain. His hissed through his teeth. Cas impulsively reached out to him.

"Here, let me take care of that."

The hunter immediately jerked away from him. "_Hell_ no! What are you, insane? No way. Cas, your healing powers are grounded until further notice, you understand? You said your grace needs time to restore, so don't use it. For anything. Got it?"

Cas looked undoubtedly crestfallen. "Okay, I got it."

Dean sighed. "Look, I'll be fine for now. It's not that bad. I just don't want you wasting your energy on me until you're better."

"I don't consider it 'wasted' at all…"

Dean opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, studying his friend a little longer. He tried to sympathize with Castiel's situation, but that was hard to do when all he could do was fear for his safety.

So instead of saying anymore, Dean pushed himself up and offered Cas his good hand. But as soon as he pulled the angel to his feet, Cas swayed and stumbled sideways, his face breaking out in a cold sweat. Alarmed, Dean seized his arm more firmly, getting a better grip on him.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy. Just sit down for another minute."

Gently, Dean guided Cas to one of the pews and then sat beside him. The angel's eyes closed and he groaned quietly, leaning forward with his arms braced against his knees. Dean cautiously laid a hand on his back and rubbed small circles there, not sure of what else to do.

"Cas…are you really gonna be okay? You're kind of scaring the shit out of me right now. Why are you so freakishly cold? And do you have any idea how pale you are?"

"It's…it's just symptoms of overuse. It will pass."

But he sounded so weak that Dean found little comfort in his words. "I've seen you overdo it in the past. But this seems…I don't know. Different. Worse than before."

Cas covered his mouth and coughed several times, his hands coming away with more blood. Dean's breath hitched.

"Jesus, Cas…."

Cas took a moment to catch his breath, then spoke hoarsely. "Healing humans generally doesn't take much grace, but such a high frequency…paired with the severity of their ailments, it can be…well, taxing."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Taxing? Can you elaborate?"

"Angelic grace is strong and durable…in a full-fledged angel with all the support of Heaven flowing through them. But with an angel like me…the limit is much lower, and once pushed past that limit, my grace…it starts to draw from and drain other sources."

Dean didn't like where this was going. "What other sources?"

"My soul. My vess-…my body's life force. Organic functions. Things like that."

"So…you could basically heal to death, is that what you're saying?"

"Theoretically, yes."

Inside, Dean was furious. Furious that Cas would do that to himself for any reason, that he would risk everything on some 'heroic' impulse, or whatever it was that possessed to him to pull such a stunt. Dean wanted to know why, he wanted all the answers, but now was not the time.

"Okay, well, we'll talk about this more later on."

Cas raised his head, looking slightly relieved. "Sounds good."

Dean frowned at the blood smeared all over Cas's face. They were not going to make it back to Dean's room without raising any red flags with him looking like that.

"Hold on, we gotta do something about your face."

Dean looked over and noticed a box of tissues on a table next to the pew. He reached over, grabbed a few, and turned back to Cas. He reached up, holding Cas's face still with one hand and gently wiping off the blood with the other. The angel closed his eyes again, leaning into the touch slightly. His lethargic demeanor was making Dean's heart race with concern. The hunter tossed the bloody tissues in the trash and cradled Cas's face with both hands.

"Hey, you still with me pal?"

Cas peeled his eyes open and attempted to focus on Dean. His blue eyes were still very bloodshot and foggy.

"Always" he replied weakly.

Dean gave him a sad smile. "Good. Now let's get out of here."

With some difficulty, Dean managed to get Cas on his feet again and positioned them so that the angel could lean on him for support but not draw too much attention. But with his friend's cold, trembling frame pressed against him, the older Winchester couldn't shake the sense that there was something Cas wasn't telling him….

Sam was more than a little anxious, standing there in the room alone waiting for Dean and Castiel to get back. He had already sent away two nurses and was starting to get twitchy. What if something had gone wrong? What if they needed his help? He cursed quietly under his breath. Why hadn't he just told Dean to stay put so he could find them first? At this point, he was the only one still running at 100%, so it would have made much more sense.

He was just about to call Dean again to see where they were when a clatter from behind caught his attention. Sam whirled around, eyes searching, but there was nothing. It was starting to get dark outside, so the only real light was a pathetic wall lamp with a dim bulb. Sam swallowed loudly and started to reach for the gold blade hidden in his jacket. But as he turned around, an enormous shadowy shape suddenly descended from the ceiling and overwhelmed him, with a shriek that split his eardrums in two. He cried out in pain, hands flying to his head, and then the world went dark….

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Dean and Castiel were managing to make their way, very slowly, back to Dean's room without attracting much attention, but it was a struggle. Cas kept stumbling, which made Dean stumble, and sometimes Dean was the one that stumbled first. He didn't want Cas to know, but the pain was getting harder to ignore, and the consequences of having to ditch the IV were starting to become clear. He felt weaker as they went along, dizzier, and slightly nauseous. There was nothing to take the edge off, but Dean did his best to push through and try to keep it to himself. The last thing he wanted was for Cas to start worrying about him; for once to his stupid life, the angel needed to worry about himself.

But Castiel, an angel of the lord and millennia old celestial being, was no fool. Despite the fog in his mind and the weakness in his body as his grace merely flickered inside him, he could feel Dean's suffering and discomfort. And he wanted to do something about…wasn't that why he was there in the first place? But Dean had been so dead-set against it, Cas would try and respect that…even if it was against every fiber of his being to leave Dean Winchester in pain when he could get rid of it with one touch.

Instead, Castiel decided to distract himself from his friend's radiating misery and looked at the other people as they passed. He recognized some of them as patients he had healed not long ago. They looked so happy now. When he had come across them the first time, they were pale and depressed, their faces shadowed with agony and resignation. Some had had tears in their eyes, of pain and of sorrow. But Cas had taken that away from them. He had vaporized it as if it had never existed. He had given them some peace, relief, and a glimmer of hope. He smiled in spite of himself. He really liked this feeling. Is this what Sam and Dean felt like every time they saved a life from some supernatural threat, even when the person had no idea they had been saved? No wonder they never stopped.

He then realized that Dean was giving him a strange look. He returned it.

"Dean, is there something wrong?"

"Well, Cas" he started dryly, "there is a lot wrong at the moment. Banshees floating around, your spontaneous healing spree, my stupid arm. But if you're referring to why I'm looking at you right now, it's because you were smiling, which in light of everything that is going, is a bit odd to say the least."

Cas immediately looked away. "It doesn't mean anything."

"You're a terrible liar."

But before Dean could continue, a sudden commotion just up ahead distracted both of them. A doctor and several nurses were having a rather loud and frantic conversation. There was also the faint sound of shouting somewhere in the background.

"I have no idea what happened" one of the nurses said hysterically. "I just went back to see if the patient was alright and only the brother was there, but he was on the floor screaming in pain!"

Dean and Cas exchanged a wide-eyed look. "Sam."

Temporarily forgetting about their various aches and pains, the two followed the group of hospital staff at a jog, straight to the source of the all the noise. Sure enough, inside the room, Sam was tied down to a hospital bed thrashing violently, eyes screwed shut, screaming about his head.

"Make it stop! Please! My head…let me go! IT HURTS!"

Castiel's heart wrenched at the sight of the younger Winchester clearly in a world of agony. Knowing that a banshee was the cause of this, he could only imagine how awful the sounds inside Sam's mind must be. Dean gripped the door frame and stared at his brother in horror.

"Oh, God…Sammy!"

He tried to reach the bedside but the nurses, who finally noticed his presence, held him back. Naturally, he fought against them.

"No, let me go! You don't understand, that's my brother! Let me see him!"

But the strain of everything, paired with the effects of his wounded arm, very rapidly got the better of him, and soon Dean was sinking to the floor, his face an unsettling shade of green. Cas tried to check on him but there were too many nurses swarming the hunter. They called for a gurney, just as Dean got sick in a nearby trash can then started to pass out.

Cas's heart thundered in his chest. He looked back and forth between the two brothers, both in their own state of physical disintegration. He clinched his fists. As the Winchesters' guardian angel and friend, he had to fix this. _Sorry Dean._

As most of the 'nurse road block' were now distracted by Dean, Cas was able to slip into the room where Sam was and reach the side of the bed. A doctor and one nurse were still there, but they were too busy trying to hold Sam still so that they could get an IV in his arm that they didn't even notice Cas. He took advantage of their distraction and reached out, placing his hand against Sam's forehead. His grace stirred inside him, but it was weak and resistant…so he pushed it. As it had been since it passed the 'safe' limit, his grace was forced to draw from his vessel's own well-being, a solution that in itself was also temporary. Not to mention life-threatening. But Cas didn't care.

It took longer than the usual 2 to 3 seconds and an incredible amount of concentration, but it finally worked, and the poison tearing at Sam's brain evaporated. The hunter gasped out as if he had just been underwater and immediately stopped thrashing. His whole body relaxed and his eyes opened, clear and focused. The doctor and nurse stepped back a bit, looking at him in confusion. Sam blinked and looked around the room in bewilderment. He squinted when he spotted Castiel. "Cas?"

But the angel was already moving away from the bed, satisfied that Sam would now be alright. It was Dean's turn. The older hunter was now being maneuvered onto a fresh gurney and he didn't look good at all. Now completely unconscious, his pallor was disturbingly pale and his limbs flopped lifelessly as he was hoisted up. Castiel had a very short window to reach him before he was carted out of reach. But Cas…wasn't doing well either.

The angel was so dizzy and weak he could barely see, everything in front of him blurry and warped. He felt sick and could taste blood in his mouth, but he refused to give in. He staggered towards the cluster of nurses, tripping and falling through them at the last second. Luckily, he caught himself on the edge of Dean's gurney. The nurses immediately tried to pry him away.

"Please, sir, you have to back away. We're trying to help him."

Luck was still on his side though, as he had landed right next to Dean's injured arm, his palm already laid across Dean's wrist. He closed his eyes and forced his grace to function once again, but it fought back harder this time. There was tremendous pain in his body and he could feel blood filling his mouth. His lungs constricted and his heart pounded dangerously fast, intensifying by the second. At that point, Cas realized that his body was on the verge of total system failure. If he didn't pull back, it would shut down, and he'd be dead before Dean was even fully healed. For a moment, he came back to his senses, realizing that if he died now, he would just be failing them again. And Cas could not stand anymore failure; he needed redemption.

So at the last second, Cas pulled back, letting his grace die down again, this time so faint he couldn't even feel it anymore. He could only sense that Dean was better.

Cas lurched away from the gurney and staggered away from the commotion, just as they started to push Dean down the hall. He leaned against the doorframe of an empty hospital room, the edges of his vision getting darker by the second. He coughed, blood spewing from his mouth, ripples of pain turning to numbness as he started to lose sense of where he was. He was brought back for a second when the whole place suddenly went dark. And at the same exact moment, Cas felt a strong and malevolent force slam into him, sending him crashing into the vacant room.

The excruciating, blinding pain that had had Sam writhing in agony was suddenly gone, and the hunter gasped for air. As his eyes focused, he realized he was lying on a bed surrounded by doctors. He frowned in confusion. Wasn't Dean the one supposed to be on a hospital bed? The doctors were looking at him with equal bewilderment, taken aback by his sudden recovery. One minute he was in physical disarray, and the next he was fine. Sam's eyes widened as he was hit by a sudden revelation. That could only mean…..

He looked to his right…

"Cas?"

…just in time to see Castiel pushing his way out into the hall.

Remembering what Dean had just said about the angel's current state, Sam scrambled off the bed with little resistance from the still confused hospital staff and followed Cas, but the doorway was blocked with people. Sam tried to see what was going on and got a glimpse of Dean being hauled onto a gurney, looking worse than ever.

"Shit, Dean!"

Despite his large size, Sam was having considerable difficulty getting past the nurses in the doorway. Though somehow, Cas had gotten through and practically collapsed on Dean. Sam knew exactly what has going to happen next.

"Oh God…Cas, wait!"

But his voice went unheard, or maybe just ignored. There was no stopping the angel now.

"Please sir, you have to back away. We're trying to help him" one nurse said, and seconds later, Cas did move away, staggering against the opposite wall. Sam knew the angel needed help, but he needed to check on Dean first to be sure. He finally managed his way to Dean's side just as his brother started to stir. Surprisingly, his arm was not fully healed, but he seemed a lot better anyway, no longer sick and pale. With the color slowly returning to his face, Dean looked up at him blearily.

"S-sam…you're okay? What h-happened?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm good now. The 'you-know-what' attacked me, but-" he leaned down close and whispered the last part, "-Cas healed me. And you too, sort of."

The older hunter's eyes widened. "No…where is he?"

"Behind me. I'm gonna check on him, you just rest."

But just as Sam turned, the entire hospital suddenly went dark. The back-up generators should have kicked in right away, but instead, only the emergency lighting came on. Something had screwed with the power, and Sam had a pretty good idea what.

"This is really bad" he gasped out. And worst of all, he couldn't see any sign of Cas anymore.

As all the hospital staff became distracted by the sudden outage, Dean was able to push himself off the gurney, leaning slightly on Sam for support.

"Goddamn it all. Where the hell is Cas, Sam?"

Sam pointed ahead. "He was right up here, c'mon."

They broke out into a run as a loud crash came from that same direction. They skidded to a halt in front of an unused room to see Cas sprawled out on the floor among the remains of a demolished cabinet with a an enormous dark shadow looming over him…one with thick red eyes and long, twisted fingers reaching towards the downed angel.

Without a second thought, Sam pulled out the gold blade and lunged at the creature, slashing at it with all his strength. He managed to wound it, and the banshee shrieked in fury before darting out of sight through the wall. Dean staggered forward and crashed to his knees beside Castiel. The angel's eyes were shut, but somehow he was still conscious and moving, struggling to push himself upright. The effort triggered a coughing fit, and blood splattered the ground around him. Dean grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down.

"No, no. Don't move. Just stay still…you stupid, reckless _idiot_."

Cas finally opened his eyes and tried to focus on Dean's face. "D-dean, you're…" his eyes dropped to the hunter's arm, still clearly bleeding underneath the thick bandages, "…not healed."

Dean gritted his teeth. "That's what you're worried about!? Christ, you're unbelievable. What part of 'don't use your grace' did you not understand, huh?"

Cas took a shuddering breath, looking utterly spent and miserable. "I'm…s-sorry."

Dean's heart lurched at the sight of his best friend's distraught expression, almost looking to be on the verge of tears. Despite everything that was going on with him, the angel looked so disappointed in himself. Dean wanted to be mad….he _was _mad, but he wanted to be madder, furious even. He just couldn't hold on to it.

Cas tried to say something else but started coughing again. They were deep, wet coughs that brought up more blood, and his skin continued to turn paler, more transparent. This was so much worse than anything Dean had seen the angel go through before, it was extremely hard to remain calm while witnessing it.

"Easy, easy now" Dean said quietly. "Try not to talk. I'm a lot better, see? It's alright."

It was anything but alright, but Cas needed to hear it.

With labored gasps, Castiel's eyes began to flutter shut. "Should've…healed you…first…." Then his head dropped down and his eyes closed completely. Dean's breath hitched in panic.

"Cas? Hey, Cas? C'mon buddy, wake up!"

But he was out, and beyond hearing Dean's voice. The only thing keeping the hunter from freaking out was the strained, uneven rise and fall of his friend's chest, proof he was still alive. Dean re-positioned himself on the floor so that he could lift Cas's head into his lap and off of the cold, hard linoleum. He gently brushed the dark hair out of his face, wincing at how incredibly cold Cas's skin was. It practically radiated off of him like air from an open freezer. He placed his hands against the sides of Castiel's face in a vain attempt to warm him up.

"Hang in there, Cas. Please…."

Sam went back to the door, slammed it shut and locked it, still holding the knife defensively, afraid that the banshee would return any second. Dean looked up at him incredulously.

"Seriously? No offense Sammy, but I'm not sure a locked door is much of an obstacle for pissed off, evil spirit."

Sam glared back. "I know that, Dean. But I don't want any people walking in on us either. Not exactly a good time to try and explain any of this to anyone." Then his tone changed. "How is he?"

Dean's expression turned grim. "How does he look? He was already in bad shape, and that extra healing number he did on us didn't do him a bit of good. Not to mention being attacked."

Sam sighed and shook his head, looking incredibly guilty. "I'm sorry, Dean. This is partly my fault. If the banshee hadn't gotten the jump on me, Cas wouldn't have healed me and probably wouldn't have gotten attacked. I was keeping an eye out for it, but it just-"

Dean held up a hand. "Whoa, Sam. Just stop. This isn't your fault. Didn't you see that thing? I'm not surprised it overpowered you. It's like the queen mother of banshees, if there is such a thing."

"You're not wrong" Sam said thoughtfully. "And I'm a little confused as to why it targeted me specifically. In a hospital full of people who are already weak and incapacitated, why would it come after me?"

"Maybe it knew you were a threat, sensed the silver or something like that. Or it was just pissed about Cas practically wiping the menu clean."

Sam's eyes widened with realization. "Oh my God, Dean. That's it! That totally makes sense. Cas did heal all those people, ones that were probably already being targeted by the banshee. It wasn't after me at all…it was trying to get to Cas. Revenge for him diminishing its feeding grounds. Not to mention, Cas-"

"-is the only dying thing left in the hospital" Dean finished, looking at his brother indignantly. "Is that what you were going to say?"

"No, Dean. I was just-"

"He's _not _going to die" Dean cut in with a sharp tone. "He might need a shit ton of time to recover from this idiotic stunt, but he _will_ recover. I'll do whatever I gotta do to make sure of that."

Sam held up his hands defensively. "As will I. And of course he'll recover. I'm just saying that he's on top of the banshee's hit list now, and even though I did manage to hurt it, it'll be back. Could be any second."

Dean closed his eyes. "Right. You're right. So we need a plan."

"Exactly."

"Watch Cas like a hawk, wait for it to reappear and stab the sonofabitch?"

"Works for me."

To be continued….

_One more chapter left. Thanks for reading everyone! Stay tuned!_


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

"Can you give me a hand here?"

Dean very gently started to move Cas so that he could grab him under the arms. Sam stepped forward and grabbed his feet, and together they managed to move him to the empty hospital bed without jostling him too much. Sam looked down at the angel with a worried frown.

"God, he looks awful…."

Dean sighed. "Well, he did just cough up a gallon of blood, he's white as a sheet, and I swear dry ice is warmer."

Sam laid the back of his hand against Castiel's neck and flinched. "Wow, you're not exaggerating. That's got to be dangerous, even for an angel."

Dean walked over to the thermostat. "If they have a problem with me screwing with this, they can bite me." He tried to turn the heat up, cursed when remembered the power was still out, and then rummaged through an undamaged cabinet until he found a blanket. Gently, he tucked the blanket around Cas's frame, smoothing the edges with precision, his expression fixed with worry and determination. Sam merely watched; if the situation wasn't so bad, he would have appreciated how endearing the sight was. Dean was only every that gentle and that caring when it came to Cas. The angel was the only exception to his brother's usual tight rein on emotion.

Once he seemed satisfied with his work, Dean straightened up and looked across at Sam. "Well, now what?"

Sam inhaled loudly. "I say we draw the Celtic trapping sigils so that when it reappears, it can't bolt again. Or rather, _I_ will. You don't need to lose any more blood."

Dean looked down at his arm as if he had forgotten all about it. "Yeah, right…." It still throbbed, but not nearly as much as before, and he no longer felt like he might pass out. But looking at it reminded him of what Cas had done, and the fact that the wound was still there was evidence of just how bad of shape he was in. Normally, an injury like this was nothing for the angel to mend. He gritted his teeth.

"Dammit, Cas. Why don't you ever listen to me?" he growled under his breath. He raised his head. Sam had been drawing the sigils but had stopped to look at him. "What?"

"You're really pissed at him, aren't you?" Sam asked rather sadly.

Dean sighed heavily. "I…well, yeah. Of course I am. I mean, look at him, Sam! Look what he's done to himself! He could die, all because he decided to play hero with some people he didn't even know."

"Wouldn't you have?"

Dean stopped abruptly. "…what?"

"I mean," Sam continued in a very matter-of-fact tone, "had you the power to heal people and had come across someone who was dying, would you not have done the same?"

Dean found himself a bit caught off guard, but tried his best to mask it under irritation. "Not really the point, Sammy. This isn't about me. It's about Cas, being reckless and impulsively putting his life in danger."

"To help people" Sam added.

"Well…yeah, but-"

"Is that not the same thing we do, and have been doing, since we started hunting together? Putting our lives at risk, being reckless and impulsive, to save lives? Is it so hard to believe that Cas, after being with us for all this time, has inclinations to do the same?"

Dean was getting frustrated with his brother's reasoning. "So what, Sam? Are you saying that you're okay with this? That it's fine because it's just a 'monkey see monkey do' type of situation? Cas is on death's door, but he was trying to save lives, so it's justified? Shit happens?" His tone got sharper with each word.

Sam grimaced. "Of course not. He was extremely careless, I agree. With his own safety and with the surreptitiousness of everything we do. I'm just saying that…I think I understand. To a point. And I know you're upset, but you should try to understand as well. Sometimes, when you worry about someone, you have a bad habit of coming across as just pissed and nothing else. Cas is your best friend. And he thought he was doing the right thing."

"Yeah, and he outa get those words tattooed on him" Dean snarled back. "In Enochian, 'I thought I was doing the right thing.' And as for your theory, here's the problem: Sure, you and I put lives on the line for strangers all the time, that's a fact. But when do we ever _purposely_ put ourselves at the brink of death, fully aware of that being the result? Not exactly something I make a habit of."

Sam frowned. "Says the guy that has died, what…over a hundred times?"

"Like you're one to talk" Dean retaliated. "Besides, anytime I knew I was going to pay the ultimate price, I fully intended on coming back."

Sam walked over and sat in a chair against the wall, the gold blade in his lap. "Okay, Dean. You win. I don't know. Are you saying he's suicidal?"

_Wouldn't be the first time_, Dean almost said, but he decided against it at the last second. Sam didn't know about he and Cas's conversation after the whole purgatory debacle, and there was no real reason for him to ever find out. Instead, he just crossed his arms. "I just know that if-…_when_ he finally recovers from this, he and I are having a nice, long chat. Man to man. Or man to angel. Whatever…."

With nothing else to say to each other, the Winchesters sat in silence for the next couple of minutes. Finally fed up with standing, Dean pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, just staring at Castiel's pale, bloodless face. Sam was, of course, right about how Dean handled these kinds of situations. He always masked his worry with anger, and it seemed his concern did become lost to the one at whom it was directed. But he often couldn't help it. Overwhelming worry for someone he loved, without another emotion to offset it, felt suffocating to the hunter. Paired with the sense that it was out of his control and Dean's anxiety spiked, sending visible tremors throughout his body. He had almost lost his best friend numerous times, and each time it felt worse.

Trembling with apprehension, Dean reached under the blanket, found Cas's hand and gently held it. It felt like a block of ice, but he didn't draw back. He dropped his head down until his forehead pressed against the bed railing.

"C-cas…" he whispered shakily, feeling helpless. All the lacerations, burns and broken bones in the world couldn't hurt worse than watching his friend suffer like this.

Thanks to the power outage, the room was rather cool without the heat running, so it took longer for the hunters to realize that the room temperature had suddenly dropped several degrees. When it dawned on him, Sam leapt to his feet.

"Dean, it's here" he gasped out.

Dean lurched to his feet as well. "The sigil, Sam. Throw me the blade!"

Sam tossed the blade to his brother just as the banshee materialized in front of them, its mass taking up most of the room. His hand still bloody from drawing the spell, Sam pressed his palm against one of the sigils. The banshee was immediately pulled to the sigil on the opposite wall. It shrieked with fury and flailed wildly. The entity so enormous in size that its thrashing limbs sent the contents of the room flying in every direction. Dean was about to stab it with the gold blade but was forced to duck as shrapnel flew through the air. Unfortunately, Sam was not able to dodge a lamp that sailed in his direction and was struck in the head. He cried out in pain as the impact slammed him back into the wall…which caused him to smear the trapping sigil by mistake.

Dean whirled around as his brother sank to the floor, unconscious. "Sammy!"

Free from the trap, the furious banshee took advantage of Dean's distraction and attacked the hunter, knocking him across the room with one blow. Dean hit the wall and landed on his injured arm, causing an explosion of pain all the way up to his shoulder. He gasped from the intensity of it as his vision swam. He could feel fresh blood running down his arm from under the bandages and the nausea was starting to return. Through the blur, he caught sight of the banshee moving towards the bed and hovering over Cas's still form. Dean choked on his own breath. "NO!"

In the mess, Dean couldn't see what had happened to the gold blade, but he had to do something. He staggered to his feet, bringing up half of a ruined chair with him, and chucked it as hard as he could. Of course, it went right through the banshee and smashed to pieces against the wall, but succeeded in drawing its attention away from Cas. It whirled around and shrieked at him, making his ears ache instantly. But he still faced it without flinching.

"Leave him alone, you fucking son of a bitch. You like humans, right? Well then, you're after the wrong guy. Come and get me, asshole!"

The banshee shrieked again and shot towards him.

"Oh shit" Dean yelped, dropping to the floor to avoid being ripped in half. His 'plan' had worked in getting the banshee to focus on him instead of Cas, but that's as far as he had gotten. His only hope now was to find the stupid blade and kill the damn thing. But it moved so fast, did he have time to find the knife before it finished him off?

Dean saw a glint of gold underneath a pile of rubble and lunged for it, but a sudden weight on his back pinned him to the floor. He cried out and tried to scramble loose, but the banshee only pressed down harder. He could feel its long, spindly finger nails digging into his flesh. And then a wail, shrill and deafening, erupted inside Dean's mind. The sensation that followed was like a railroad spike being slowly driven into the base of his skull, wedging it apart and piercing into his brain. He screamed in agony. He wanted it to end so badly, but fought the overwhelming urge to start bashing his head into the ground. But it was a fight he was rapidly losing, as the wail continued to intensify and the blinding pain started to overpower his will….

Castiel had been floating in a vat of darkness for an unknown period of time when sudden senses started to break through and drive him back into awareness. First was an intense chill that washed over his already cold body and made him shiver. The next was an array of noises, muffled at first, but growing in volume and proximity. He finally stirred when a sound, more penetrating and dreadful than anything he had ever heard before, filled the space around him. His body was unbearably weak, so much that he felt disconnected from his own physical form, but he forced his eyes open and rolled on his side to see what has happening.

The first thing he saw was pieces of broken…_everything_, scattered all over the room, and Sam Winchester, blood trickling from his head, lying in the midst of it. The sight of his injured friend inspired him to try and sit up more, his eyes going wide in horror. Then he turned and saw it; the banshee, abnormally large in size and abundant in power, hovered at the other end of the room, but its attention was focused on the ground…where it had Dean Winchester pinned to the linoleum floor, howling in pain.

Cas was hardly in any condition to move, much less aide in a fight against this powerful entity. But if there was one thing he absolutely _could not_ do, it was stand by while this thing harmed his friend…the human that meant more to him than anything else in the universe. The sentiment that sparked today's event, his sudden need to heal those who were sick, hurt and dying, had been born out of the need for redemption. The desire to set things right for a change, instead of ruin or destroy them. The chance do real good in the world, and to _be _good.

But what the hell was the point of redemption if he couldn't save his family?

"_No fucking point_" he ground out, forcing himself out of the bed and onto his feet, his face set with determination. It didn't matter that his grace was almost gone; he would draw the power from somewhere, no matter how high the cost.

Dean was literally seconds from giving into the urge to bash his own head open when the pressure holding him down suddenly vanished. The sound also evaporated just as abruptly and he gasped with relief. But what had caused it to let up?

He turned over slowly, trying to ignore the desire to throw up, and attempted to focus on what was going on above him. The banshee was still the room, but it was writhing in midair, seemingly held by an unknown force. It screamed and struggled, clearly trying to fight back against whatever had a hold of it, but could not break loose. Dean sat up shakily and looked at other side of the room. His eyes grew impossibly wide.

Not only was Castiel awake, but he was standing, facing the banshee with his arm outstretched and light radiating from his open palm. As Dean watched, he stepped forward as his eyes began to glow a vibrant neon blue and the shadows of his gigantic, dark wings consumed the space behind him. As he advanced, the banshee was forced back until its body was pressed against the opposite wall and trapped in place.

Dean couldn't believe it; the way Cas had looked, it seemed as if he was teetering on the edge of death, or at least of losing his grace entirely. By some miracle, he had summed up enough power to gain an upper hand on the malevolent entity. But only took Dean a few seconds to realize that this surge of strength was extremely temporary. Cas was already swaying, the light in his eyes flickering, and there were fresh streams of blood starting to seep from his mouth and nose. Dean's heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of blood starting to leak from his eyes as well.

"C-Cas! DON'T!" he cried out desperately.

Cas spoke, but kept his eyes on the banshee, ignoring Dean's plea. "You have hurt enough people. We weren't here to stop you before, when you started feeding off this place, but we're here now, and you crossed a line when you turned on my friends. And now, we are putting an end to your slaughter!"

We. He kept saying _we_. And that's when Dean understood. Cas was just holding it there, taking the place of the trapping spell, but he didn't have the strength to kill it. That part was up to the hunter.

At Castiel's condemning speech, the banshee fought harder and was actually starting to gain some ground. Cas grunted with effort and managed to stand firm, but he was fading fast. Dean dove towards the pile where he saw the glint, only to find that it wasn't the blade he had seen, but a piece of a broken lamp. He cursed loudly and started tearing through the mess, frantic. But then:

"Dean, here!"

He looked up to see his brother, awake again, pull the knife from underneath a ruined chair and slide it towards him. Dean snatched it up and scrambled to his feet. The banshee had succeeded in pushing away from the wall and was now only a few feet from the angel, quickly closing the space between them.

Dean ran forward. "I got it, Cas! Hold on!"

Seeing Dean on his feet again gave Cas the last ounce of strength he needed, and with one last push, he focused the all the energy he had left into a single surge and slammed the creature back against the wall with a burst of light. As it hit, Dean threw himself at it and plunged the blade as deep as it would go, straight into the entity's heart. It let out a final, guttural cry before exploding into a cloud of red mist. It was finally over.

Dean breathed heavily, leaning against the wall for support and then sliding to sit on the ground as his exhaustion and pain, now in his head as well as his arm, caught up with him. But all of his senses suddenly went numb when he looked over at Cas. The angel, whose skin was now gray and had tear tracks of blood streaming down his face, locked eyes with the hunter for a second. The glow was gone, replaced with a dull, lifeless fog.

He managed to give Dean a soft, weak smile before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Dean let the knife slip from his hands and scrambled over to his friend as fast as he could.

"Oh my God…C-Cas? Cas!"

He leaned over and laid his head against the angel's chest, but there was no movement. And when he checked for a pulse, he couldn't find one.

"Jesus Christ, he's not breathing" Dean cried, voice breaking with panic. "Sam, help! What do I do?"

Sam had managed to get on his feet and staggered towards them. With Dean's words, he looked down at his brother in horror. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for both of them.

"CPR" he ordered. "30 compressions, 2 breaths. Hurry!"

Dean nodded and turned back to Cas. He clasped his hands together and braced them against his friend's chest, pushing down hard with even, rhythmic intervals. He counted to 30 and then leaned down, tipping back Cas's head to open his airway. Ignoring all the blood, Dean covered the angel's mouth with his own and breathed twice, feeling his chest rise and fall with each one. Whether or not CPR was something that would even work on an angel was unclear, but Dean chose not to think about that. He stayed completely focused on the task at hand, having to repeat the process when Cas still did not breath on his own.

At that moment, the power finally came back, flooding the red lit room with a blinding overhead glow. Spotting it on the ground, Sam grabbed up the blade and concealed it in his jacket, afraid what someone might think if they saw it, then knelt down on Cas's other side as Dean continued the CPR. But so far, nothing had changed. Sam felt sick to his stomach as he took in Cas's appearance. He had looked bad before, but now…he looked like the bodies Sam had seen down in the morgue.

Despite his brother's efforts, Sam feared that this was out of their hands and that if Cas was to have a chance at surviving, they would need to seek outside help. Sure, Castiel was an angel and his grace was clearly the center of his suffering, but his physical body was still human, and that human part of him was dying.

Carefully, Sam reached out and grasped his brother's shoulder. "Dean…hey, D-Dean?"

But Dean jerked away from him. "Not now, Sam!"

"Dean, listen" Sam tried again. "Hold on a sec. I think…I think we need help. You can't…."

Sam trailed off. Dean didn't seem to be hearing him, and he seemed to be losing strength as his movements got slower and slower. With that, Sam made up his mind. Dean was not in any state to weigh in anyway.

"Screw it" Sam said, pushing himself to his feet again and rushing to the door. If he didn't get someone now, Cas might die…if it wasn't too late already. He unlocked the door and burst out into the hallway, shouting for help.

Dean hadn't even really noticed what Sam doing, and though fatigue was getting the better of him, he didn't stop. Only when people started flooding in the room and literally prying him away did he acknowledge anyone else. He fought against the arms that were trying to pull him back, away from Cas.

"N-no, no!" He cried frantically. "Let me go, goddammit! He's still not breathing! I've got to help him! Stop!"

But they didn't stop, and soon Sam was beside him, holding onto his shoulders firmly.

"Dean! Relax, they're trying to help. Let them help. We have to. Cas won't make it if we don't."

Dean felt tears running down his cheeks as he looked down at Cas's ashen face. Before they could take him away, the hunter leaned down and pressed his forehead against the angel's, placing one hand directly over Cas's heart, as if he could will his own life force into his friend that way, and make him breathe again.

"Don't die…" he begged quietly. "Please…don't…."

But then Sam pulled him upright, so he had no choice but to sit there and watch them take Cas, and the strain of it all hit him in one giant wave. He suddenly felt so weak he could barely breathe and the last of his strength evaporated like water. He curled in on himself, his frame shaking uncontrollably, and leaned into Sam when he felt his brother's arms wrap around him.

Needless to say, what was originally an unplanned but then, supposed to be, quick in-and-out trip to the hospital now stretched over a span of a couple days. Sam was treated for a thankfully mild head wound and Dean's arm was stitched and re-bandaged. As it turned out, Cas had managed to heal the infection that had started in the wound, causing the weakness and nausea, and had also repaired a lot of the deeper muscle damage, leaving mostly surface lacerations. But the doctor was not as surprised as Dean expected; he seemed more resigned, chocking it up to what was now being referred to all throughout the hospital as 'the Miracle', an unexplained phenomena that swept through, saved dozens of lives, and vanished just a quickly. Luckily, besides the little girl's account of an 'angel' standing above her, no one else saw anything or anyone, so their 'secret' was safe.

The angel himself, however, had been much less so.

When the doctors got a hold of him, Cas was flat-lining and had severe internal bleeding and multiple organ failure. They were not at all optimistic of his survival and pretty much gave up on him at one point. But somehow, against all the odds, his heartbeat did come back, several seconds after they pronounced him dead. From whatever source it had pulled from, the dying embers of his tortured grace were able to recover enough to restart his heart and make his lungs work again. Again, the doctors blamed the Miracle, knowing how impossible the situation was. And that's what they told Sam and Dean when they had finally gotten him stable.

Two days later, Cas seemed to be well enough to at least travel, and the Winchesters snuck their friend out of the hospital, into the Impala, and home to the bunker. Cas's grace was going to take a long time to restore, but it had already started, and he seemed to be no longer at risk of dying.

As much as he wanted to, Dean chose to wait on confronting Cas and having the dreaded conversation he had planned since this all started. It was still going to happen, but Dean wanted to rethink his approach for several reasons, giving Cas time to recover more being the most obvious. The other reasons did have something to do with what Sam was saying, but there was more than that….

During their painfully long and nerve-wracking wait for Cas to be well enough to sneak out of the hospital, Dean heard a lot of chatter about the Miracle and his kept his ear to the ground in case he heard anything of concern. News of the event spread and was televised as reporters flooded in to catch the story, but nothing got out of hand or made him worry about Cas being found out. But what he did end up hearing succeeded in diminishing the deep set anger he had towards Cas for what he had pulled, and what it had ultimately caused.

Dean had been leaning casually against a wall, his arm in a sling, listening to a conversation between a couple of doctors and several reporters. He hadn't really intended to pay attention unless he heard something about a guy in a trench coat, but he did anyway, and somehow, it was as if he was meant to hear it.

"We're calling it a miracle because…" the doctor trailed off, "…well, it was just that. There's really no other explanation for it. Not every single patient in the hospital was affected, but the ones whose lives were in critical condition, or who were spending their last days or hours here with no hope of recovery, were miraculously healed or cured. And what makes this all the more incredible is that, with the power outage and the backup generators failing, had some the patients who were scheduled for surgery or on life support not been healed before that happened, they would have died. Probably all of them. It would have been a horrible tragedy. This miracle is the only reason a third of our patients are still alive. I'm not much of a believer, but if divine intervention is real, than this is what it would look like, I'm sure of that."

Those words rung in Dean's mind for the rest of the day, the entire ride back to the bunker, and then some. What it told him was that what Cas had done, while dangerous , reckless and impulsive, had ultimately prevented a heartbreaking disaster that was already set to happen, thanks to the banshee. How could Dean fault him entirely for that? It was the family business after all. Saving people, hunting things. And Cas was definitely family. It was just like Sam had been trying to point out. Dean cursed quietly. Sammy was always right about these things.

But Dean was still deeply bothered by a sense that something else had driven Castiel to do it, something that needed to be addressed in order to avoid future incidences. And with that in mind, Dean decided the conversation, though altered from how he previously intended to approach it, still needed to happen.

So one morning when Castiel walked into room, still moving a bit slow and stiff, Dean patted the chair next to him at the table.

"Hey Cas. Have a seat. I need to talk to you."

Cas frowned slightly, seeming a bit nervous, but obliged. He did, however, have trouble making eye contact with the hunter.

Dean sighed. "I'm guessing you know what I want to talk about?"

"I have an idea" Cas replied quietly, still not looking at him.

"Well, then let me just get right to the point. What you did was…pretty damn stupid."

"Saving lives is stupid?" Cas replied plainly.

"You know what I mean" Dean growled back. "Pushing yourself to the brink of death is the stupid part, dumbass." But then he reined it in a bit, reminding himself of what Sam said. "Look, you just…you scared the absolute shit out of me, and Sam. You were dead, you know that? For a little while, your heart had stopped, you weren't breathing, and you were just…dead. And…it just…."

Dean was struggling to contain himself, remembering how sick he felt when the doctors hauled Cas away and warned them how slim his chances were. But he forced himself to focus on his concern more than his resentment for being put in that situation.

"I just need to understand why, Cas. What exactly made you throw caution to the wind and put yourself in that much danger. I mean, did you have any idea how risky it was? How sick it would make you?"

Cas shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't know exactly what would happen because I had never done anything like that before. I just…saw all those people, suffering, sad, in pain…and I knew I could fix it, so I did. I've healed random people before, but I've never been around so many in one place. The misery in the air, was…overwhelming, and I had the power to get rid of it. I thought you would understand, Dean. You and Sam save people all time, especially when it's dangerous, because you know that you can, that you're the _only_ ones who can. You told me once you were not much of a role model, but that's simply not true. At the time, I was the _only _one capable of saving these people, so I did. 'Cause that's what you would have done."

_Of course Sam was right, _Dean thought, rolling his eyes. But he wasn't satisfied yet. "Yeah, Cas. I get that. But….you went too far. You pushed way past your limits and almost paid the ultimate price for it. I can't help but feel that there's something else going on. So be straight with me…what is the other reason?"

Cas finally looked at him, his blue eyes swimming with conflicted emotions. For a being as matter-of-fact, serious and blunt as he was, Castiel had the most expressive eyes the hunter had ever seen, and he often found himself unable to look away from them. Cas hesitated in answering, but finally:

"I wouldn't expect you to understand this because, even though both you and Sam have messed up in the past, you'll never screw up as much as I have. Never. The things I have done are unforgivable and frankly….hard to live with. But I force myself to because that's my punishment. To live with the memories of the crimes I've committed and the people I've hurt, you and Sam being among those people. And plus, if I'm here, at least I can help you, protect you, support you anyway I can. You mean the world to me, so that's really the least I can do. But…with all the wrongs in my past, I will never do enough right to make up for it. And what I saw was a chance. A chance to do the right thing, to be good, to change something for the better. So I saved that little girl, a child who didn't deserve to die, whose life was being cut cruelly short. And when I saw her face, and the faces of her family, how happy and relieved they were, their hope restored, I felt…joy. Peace. Contentment. And knowing that I could give that same hope to others, ones who had lost faith long ago, well…I just knew I had to."

Dean took a deep breath. It was a lot to process, but he needed to confirm one thing. "So…you weren't trying to kill yourself? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I've been a little freaked out about that ever since you opened up to me about Heaven when you came back from Purgatory. So, I thought…."

Cas shook his head. "No, that was not my agenda. It's redemption, Dean. I told you long ago that I would redeem myself to you, for everything I've done, but I need to do that for the rest of the world as well. I owe humanity that, and I will forever. Call me desperate. Call me selfish. But I know I needed to do this."

Dean just stared back at his friend, taking in everything that had been said. It wasn't what he expected. He figured Cas would go and start talking like he did when they were still trapped in Purgatory, with that melancholy 'I deserve to suffer' song and dance that made Dean so frustrated. What he said this time made sense, and he felt like he did understand a bit better. But that didn't make it any less sad.

Dean dragged a hand down his face. "Jeez, Cas…."

The angel looked away. "Like I said, I really don't expect you to understand. You've never murdered thousands of your own family, killed hundreds of innocent people and betrayed your best friends again and again. So why would you?"

"But I do" Dean replied immediately. "Better than you realize. Yeah, if you want to do the math, our screw-up piles are a bit lopsided in quantity, but I've never looked at it that way. Everybody screws up, pal. Royally. And Chuck knows you and I are legends in the field. So I get it. But…if you think for second that I think it justifies almost killing yourself, you're dead wrong. No pun intended. It's fine to want redemption, but it's _not_ fine to throw out your own well-being in the process. I will _never _be okay with that, you hear me? So you better get that straight, you stupid sonofabitch."

Cas drew back slightly as Dean's voice rose with every word. He quite literally jumped when Dean suddenly pushed back from the table and stood up aggressively.

"Get up" the hunter growled. "Now. C'mon."

Castiel swallowed loudly, wishing he was anywhere else right now, but did what Dean told him, only much slower. On his feet, Cas faced his friend as firmly as he could, ready for what he was sure was going to be a well-deserved right hook to the face. Instead, Dean closed the distance between them in one long stride and wrapped his arms around Cas's frame incredibly tight, his face buried in the angel's shoulder. Castiel was so taken aback that he just stood there, his eyes wide.

"You have no idea, do you?" Dean finally said, his voice incredibly muffled by the fabric of the trench coat. "You have no idea how scared I was. How fucking terrifying it was to find you like that, to see you look so sick, bleeding everywhere, and then laying on the ground, cold and still and not breathing. You scared me to death, Cas. I thought we'd lost you. You…can't do that. You can't scare me like that, okay? You just can't…."

Cas's heart lurched at his friend's distraught tone, and he brought his arms up to hug him back. "I'm sorry, Dean…I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry…."

Dean finally drew back, taking a deep breath, but held Cas at arm's length. "You mean the world to me too, you know. I need you…alive and well. So…stay away from hospitals from now on, okay?"

Cas nodded, but his dejected expression made Dean feel sympathetic. He brought his hands up to Cas's face, gently cradling his cheeks.

"Listen, buddy.. As risky as it was, what you did back there was incredibly selfless, _not_ selfish. Those people would have died too soon thanks to that banshee, and you saved them. So, you did a great thing. Be proud of that. But at the same time, this is not something you can ever or, as harsh as it sounds, should ever repeat. It's not even possible for you to make a habit of it. Unfortunately for humans, death is a part of life. So, as noble as it is to want to, you…you can't save everyone. Though you try."

Cas frowned. "I said that to you once" he said thoughtfully. "Are you…using my own words against me?"

Dean let go of his face. "You bet your ass I am. Now, your grace is grounded for the next few weeks, got it? No healing, no nothing. If I catch you using it for any reason, I'll beat the shit out you."

"I understand" Cas said with a slight smirk. "But if you end up hurt or in danger sometime between now and then, I can't make any promises. You're right, I can't save everyone, but I will always save you, no matter what. Nothing would ever stop me from doing that."

Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders. "Right back 'atcha."

THE END

_Thank you guys so much for reading! _


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